Tales of Time
by FoenFyre
Summary: When Luke was born, he wasn't entirely himself. Bits of thoughts he never had littered his mind. When finally he spoke, however, the transformation was complete. Innocence to unexplained bitterness. It can all be traced to this.
1. Cruelty

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Tales of the Abyss, or anything relevant...

**Summary:** ToA She was the Princess of her nation. He was the servant of her betrothed. She thought she was being gracious by just allowing him to be in her presence, and he thought the torture would never end. Natalia-bashing

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**Cruelty **

_It wasn't that she didn't notice._

Natalia saw the tremors he tried, desperately and failingly, to hide. She saw the terrified look he gave her when she stepped closer. She could even tell, even though his jaw was clenched and he certainly wasn't in a state to say anything, that he was silently asking for her to rethink and give him mercy.

"Hardly," she scoffed , "the _proper_ way to act in the presence of your future Mistress, Guy." His blue eyes widened at her mocking, and he ducked his head, obscuring his face from view with the blond windswept hair that made him easily distinguishable in a crowd, and from most of the other servants. It was a pity, she thought, that the looks he held were wasted on someone from so low on the class ladder. Alas, it couldn't be helped.

Natalia tilted her head and silently observed him, watching to see if he would relax and ask to be dismissed properly, but he even looked too shaken by her proximity to even form a single word, let alone string together a whole sentence. She clicked her tongue and slowly halved distance between them with two long strides. The table that had formerly acted as his only barrier was soon passed by and turned against him as a blockade from his only exit, and when he seemed to have noticed this, his shivers became even more obvious.

The numerous buttons of the coat he was holding, clinked loudly in the crook of his arm, echoing throughout the castle room that she had cornered him in. He was an absolute mess, she quietly acquiesced, as she crossed her arm and willed herself to focus back on the problem.

"Why are _you_ here?" she asked impatiently, raising her chin and looking at his bowing form haughtily. He had no right to be in _her_ castle—not when he could be serving her beloved fiancé who was still recovering from that frightful incident that occured several years ago. If she wasn't so busy with her duties as crowned princess, she would have put herself up to the task of helping Luke remember his vow to her, and of course—the rest of his memories.

It was to Guy that task was assigned, and as important as he felt having been given such a noble task as assisting the tertiary heir to the throne, he had no right to strut around the palace as if he owned it. It was even more appalling that he hadn't greeted her properly, or shown any other signs of proper decorum. It was unbecoming of a servant of the fon Fabre's, and she was determined to set it right.

Guy began to straighten up as her glare intensified, and he slowly rose his eyes, gritting his teeth she noticed, to meet her gaze. His eyes focused on her, stopping the slight glances he had been directing to the door behind her, and he let out one more wince before opening his mouth to reply quietly. She raised an eyebrow at his efforts, and was forced to ask him to repeat himself.

"—gift from fon Fabres." He said, this time, a little louder. It took her a minute to process the message, and another to adopt an unimpressed stance and accompanying look that she immediately centered on him.

"Guy," she snapped, faintly wondering what kind of parents had raised children to behave in this manner, "when addressing _me,_ you will do it properly. My title is that of Princess Natalia—_Understood_?" His head again bowed, and he mumbled his assent. Sighing, she decided to abandon all the initiative she had had to act as restrained as possible in light of his ridiculous "condition", as her beloved had tried to explain it as when she had threatened to dismiss his "friend" from his service to the royal family.

She hadn't understood then, or even now for that matter, why he couldn't just swallow it up and ignore whatever irrational fear of,_ of all things_, women that he held, but then again she never considered it her top priority to ponder about such pointless things. He was a servant, with not a drop of noble blood in his veins, and if he wasn't getting used it now, she would be sure to drill it out of him. When the time came for the fon Fabre household to join with that of the royal family, he would not hinder the integration.

For some reason her beloved seemed fond of him in his sickened state, so she couldn't dismiss him as easily as she did the maid who had ruined her favorite book some years ago. It wouldn't do to have such a wedge driven between them before they were to be married.

She strode forward, eliciting a faint squeak from him, and a wince of disdain from herself at witnessing such gross conduct. Then she took the coat of intricate stitching and design in one hand, and grabbed him by his forearm with the other, drawing him into a kneeling position that he adopted easily. At least his phobia had some use, she thought absently. "Greet me and ask me to dismiss you properly, Guy." He flicked his eyes up anxiously, and nodded his head frantically, prompting her to smirk at her success. She put her hands on her hips, brushing away any faint traces of dust that may have gathered from being close to the ground and to him, before drawing herself up to full height. He took a few moments to compose himself, and to voice the requested response aloud.

"Go—good d—day to you, Prin—Princess Natalia", he again gave her a panicked glance before continuing, "—may my hum—humbled self ple—please take your leave, t—to return to my hou—household?" She gave him a satisfied nod, and dismissed him accordingly, returning the with the typical royal response to his monologue.

"I acknowledge your greeting with pleasure, and give you permission to return to your typical duties." His body relaxed noticeably, and with a wave of dismissal, she stepped to the side and allowed him a clear path to the door.

Natalia watched him inch slowly past her, trying to keep a casual pace that would give away the sense of confidence that he sorely lacked. She pretended to not notice the fast dash he took up when he made it out the door. "Well, he almost made it." She sighed, turning to the table and laying her prize out on it to examine with glee.

She put the encounter as far from her mind as possible, focusing on the beautiful outer coat of periwinkle that she was sure was a gift from her beloved for the annual ball that was coming up. She had noticed the intricate designs of various shapes and seals that signaled her as princess, and let out a silent squeal when she was finally able to examine its entireity. She would be sure to prepare her fiancé for the dance, even if he were confined to his manor for safety reasons, he would not miss her birthday.

She could do so many things with him—teach him how to dance again, see if he could remember anything about his vow, and— if she had time, take him around the castle to see if he could remember anything more of the time before his abduction. It would be perfect, she nodded to herself, and no one was going to ruin it for her—them. It was her duty as the future queen to prepare him for everything if his servant wasn't properly equipped to teach him.

Natalia wondered absently whether the Duke had actually realized what a failure, she grimaced at the thought, he had assigned to her beloved's care. She sniffed and resolved to bring the subject up to him of she encountered him during one of her monthly visits. It was the best she could do for Luke for now. Until he married her, that is.

_**It was that she didn't care.**_

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_**A/N--**I LOVE GUY, HONESTLY, I DO!!!!!!!!!!...And like Natalia..._

I just tore up while writing it 'cause I know its putting him into torture my inner fangirl can't stand, but then the title would be pointless, and Natalia would seem justified in what she was doing! I assure you all I do not hate her in any way! It's just that I could so see her doing this because when she was introduced in the game she struck me as this self-centered and selfish snob, though she shows herself to be compassionate later on--though that could have been all for appearances...

I put a few Luke mentions here and there (with her caring more about the vow than the rest of his memories...) with her sounding slightly possessive because the whole "even if you betray us to run off with Van (becoming a potential wanted felon to your country in the process), I'll use the blackmail I heard while eavesdropping (not rude in any way) to force you to marry me against your will because of a vow you made to me when we were seven years old" thing that went on in the sewers.

That left me a bit thrown for a loop when I forced myself to consider whether I wanted her in my party...And later on she became a permanent member when she proved herself to be the one to last the longest in every battle...Dunno, but she worked that way for me..

Hope you guys review and tell me what you thought about it!


	2. Afterthought

Thanx to my reviewer from Cruelty: Fox of Anubis, Tarame, Black Acid Dragon, and an anonymous reviewer for convincing me that it wasn't a bash fic! I hope I don't let you down with this one!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerning Tales of the Abyss...

Summary: _"You act as if you matter." "—Jade, one of these days you'll come to your senses and—" "— I'll realize tolerating your presence wasn't worth it?" It was only an afterthought that came too late, that showed him how wrong he'd been._  
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**"Afterthought"**

It was more like an afterthought than a hard-won result of his work.

It was an accident, not an unwanted one, but an accident in every sense of the word. The product of untied ends of thought; the consequence of schemes gone wrong.

He hadn't thought of what his discovery would cause—just that he'd been the first to use it.

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Jade Balfour, resident genius of the snowy town of Keterburg, had done many things during his short span of living—in other words, he had done everything he had considered worth doing. Who cared if he lost his life, or if his bumbling friend Saphir suddenly walked in and got caught in the highly probable backlash? He didn't think anyone would miss Saphir much, and he—well he had had a high attraction to luck, and he didn't think anyone but Nephry, who'd shed many a tear and finally be relieved of her tormentor; Peony, who would go on and eventually become an emperor with no time for his small-town friends anyway; and Saphir, whose hero-worship and unbearably bright outlook on life would finally take a nosedive and set him up for life to come, would miss him. He was all doing them a favor by doing experiments like this one; or at least that was what those were the ideas he entertained whenever preparing to finish up whatever test he was performing. 

He adjusted his glasses in his usual absentminded gesture, the goggles covering the majority of his face proving to hinder that highly practiced movement, and carefully prepared to put the measured amount of water into the beaker before him. Patience was the key. If he put the water in the beaker too quickly, the whole experiment would be rendered useless. If he put the water in too slow, the experiment would have to be aborted on the pretext of inconsistent trial constants. A mouthful to say, but that was why Jade left explanations to others who were available and with the same knowledge—namely Saphir.

He spotted a stripe of blue out of the corner of his eye. One of Nephry's dolls lay in the corner of the table, despondent and forgotten; he'd return it to her afterwards.

Jade steadily lowered his hand; hovering close enough to watch the theoretical flow of water, yet placed in way that he would not accidentally breath into the beaker and contaminate the unstable contents. He had spent hours to reach this state and he would mildly perturbed if something went wrong, at now of all times.

He carefully tilted the vial filled halfway with a blue mist which had taken up more than over two times the expected amount time necessary to create a stable and physical manifestation of the fourth fonon in such a small and concentrated amount. The third fonon, a whitish and platinum hue, he noticed swept around the beaker with wild abandon, almost causing the heavy beaker (the reasons he chose one that weighed several pounds heavier than the standard obvious) to shudder when it made contact with the edges.

It was now or never, and Jade wasn't willing to try to do such a draining experiment with other theories to test out rattling in the empty recesses of his brain—not that he had much empty space to begin with. Saphir on the other hand…Well, there was a time and place for those observations, and this was neither.

He had to consciously withhold the need to tremble, sweat gathering under his brown gloves and his forehead becoming moist with the effort. He flicked his tongue inside his mouth several times in quick succession as he noticed that his mouth was becoming unbearably dry. The stripe of blue that stayed just out of his full range of sight faded for a small span before returning to its original luster, and it was then he regained his focus.

The water fonons were pouring slower than he'd expected, but he had hypothesized that possibility and adjusted his actions accordingly. He'd theorized for months, written and reviewed his hypothesis, and now he watched as the fourth fonon was about to mix with the third. Would ice form? A possible new type of fonon…or just a regular compound that he could easily go out of the schoolroom and gather with the constantly falling snow?

He shook his head lightly and again brought his eyes back from the cuff of his shirt to his slightly tremor-filled hands and prepared his mind for the recording of observations that he would put down in his records book. Knowing that Saphir snuck into his things when away from their room, he'd probably have to commit it to memory before actually finding it wherever the idiot lost it while he was away.

The fourth fonons finally reached a close position to its intended target, coming to a stop just above the air fonons that bounced up and down wildly as they neared. Jade shook his head in amazement and watched carefully, calculating the distance of the two fonons and by what amount the movement and speed of the third fonons increased. He was just about to apply a bit of force by injecting a small amount of third fonons to sandwich the fourth using the extra concentrated third fonons he had created in a previous moment of foresight. He braced himself for what could become a disaster when—

BOOM!

He flinched and scrambled back until his back hit the opposite wall, giving him more of a scare than he was accustomed to. It was all he could do to withhold these tremors that came and he would have let out cry if he hadn't had a full view of what had scared him.

A bowl shaped haircut of lavender bounced up and down excitedly beside him, framing a flushing a rounded face. The wide eyes filled with something akin to excitement skimmed over the sight of his workspace and until they finally came to rest on Jade which gave him the cue to withdraw into his mind and think before the mind-curling screech of greeting was shouted for all the world to hear.

"JADE! You won't believe what I foun—" Was it true that fire fonons resisted being pulled toward an area with a high concentration of water fonons?—, "And Nephry started screaming until Peony stepped up in front of the—" He knew that a mass of fire fonons held and almost magnetic force of repulsion, but did the same hold true vice-versa. "—It was glowing! And when my doll got close to it—"It was a rather fascinating idea he'd like to try for himself instead of finishing reading the results he had found in the research folder Professor Neblim let him see—, "And then the Professor was telling me about how they almost never—" Yes, he supposed that he'd just sneak a peek at the files Neblim kept hidden…—Was is just him or did Saphir suddenly get too silent? Jade slowly raised his head and winced when he saw the expression that had crossed the younger boy's face.

His eyes held an almost fanatical glint as he looked at the currently trembling and (seemingly) titter beaker. Saphir's hands twitched and slowly inched towards it and the research notes he had left next to them, and it was then Jade knew he'd have to appeal to the boy's short-attention span to spare the innocent experiment he had left in plain sight.

"You know, Saphir", As if by clockwork, Saphir's fanatical expression shifted into one of extreme joy at being acknowledged. Now seeing his work to be safe, Jade rose to his feet cautiously and edged his way towards the table while distracting his 'friend', "I'm feeling kind of stuffy in here, do you mind taking this report of yours outside?" He had to approach the subject with extreme caution if he didn't want to deal with the boy's usual pathetic and teary monologue on "friendship". He didn't have the time to deal with such a fantastic concept when other subjects were practically begging for his insight. He left Nephry to that sort of thing. Her doll sat as it was when he'd first noticed it; he blamed it for his absent-mindedness.

"It won't take much time then we—"

"_I'd_ prefer to take this outside Saphir, the experiment that I'm conducting needs absolutely no disturbances lest it becomes unstable." There, a little white lie never hurt anyone.

"But it's really quick and it might help you in your research." Jade tried to restrain himself, and so clenched his fists when the cling-on took on a pleading tone, the one he had absolutely no tolerance for. The boy began to babble on about how Jade would find whatever it was he had found so _interesting_, and how Jade might even consider letting him join in with what he was doing now—It was unbearable when Saphir even started insinuating that he'd waste his precious time to explain what had taken him days to prepare!

"No." His eyes betrayed a calm sort of anger, in no way diverted or dampened by the lenses that separated his full gaze from the world, and Saphir took a step back in shock. His eyes began to film over with tears as he fumbled for his usual rebuke,

"But, Jade—We're friends! You can't stay stuck up here by yourself all the time." Predictable. No matter how many times the subject was breached, they always managed to return to square one. "Nephry really worries about you all the time, and even though Peony doesn't say it, he wonders why you don't have fun with the rest of us!"

"And yet you are the only one who comes to get me?"

"Because they think I'm the only one who you'll listen to!" They couldn't possibly—What in all of Malkuth had given them such a deluded thought? Thinking that they understood just what he was thinking. Using their excuses of "loyalty" and "love" to justify their actions when in the end it would be those exact reason that would set them apart.

The gnawing sense of irritation boiled over in Jade's mind, though he gave no other indication of suffering from it. "Saphir—This is _my _work. Just because I have allowed you so far to stay within 10 feet of my person says nothing about our camaraderie," he noticed a blank look cross the bemused idiot still standing at the doorway's edge, "Our 'friendship' is _non-existent_. Deal with it and maybe you have a chance of evolving from the currently runny-nosed dunce you are into a more respectable and decent human being 'with a brain' before this century is over."

"You accuse me of not being human!" His counter-part mirrored him now, his hand clenched, and his eyes glinting dangerously. Had he gotten dear little Saphir angry now? "When you are nothing of the sort yourself!"

"I'd rather myself a monster than be anything you are." Another point to him by way of flinching. The lavender headed boy's resolve faltered at that point and crumbled when he saw that his companion was not going to give in to his requests.

"Jade, don't you care at all about how we worry—" That annoying begging voice was back again.

"I'd suggest with the utmost 'care'," he was too far gone in his anger to even stop his tirade to allow Saphir a word in edgewise, "that it would be better in the long run if you didn't indulge in such a depressing activity."

"But, what about me—I—" Acting as if he—

"You act as if you matter."

"—Jade, one of these days you'll come to your senses and—" He was the one with all the sense.

"— I'll realize tolerating your presence wasn't worth it?"

It wasn't until he saw tears streaming down the usually jolly face, and silent sobs as his adversary only a moment before walked out without another word and shut the door that he 'd realized that he'd won. He'd won the battle, along with that familiar feeling of foreboding that tagged every one of his victories, but something felt off—more than before, and more than he ever had felt.

He had to wonder if this incident would ever repeat itself when he cut into his wandering thoughts, catching sight of a familiar blue dressed doll, and reassured himself that it would. It had been going on for years and Saphir wasn't one to back down. No, not someone as leech-like as him.

Jade walked the few steps back to his beaker when he stopped and turned to again glance at the attention-stealing doll. It would perish. He'd had enough time wasted today for it to exist any longer. He pushed away from his side of the table and slowly closed the distance between the doll and himself. He needed to do something different to take his mind off his current troubles.

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A flash illuminated the building, pouring out of every crack and opening until the whole area was lit with the strange light. Jade not expecting that to happen fell again to the floor in a heap, feeling for some reason drained—not the way he usually felt after pulling fonons from an object. 

He stood shakily, grabbing a nearby window ledge to help, and made his way over to the doll he had been experimenting with. Shaking hands made their way to his additional discovery along with an atypical intake of air that had for some reason been needed to make sense of the sight before him.

Laying side-by-side with the doll he had intended to break down into basic fonons, like a mirror image, was a—replica of the doll itself. He poked it to assure its authenticity , and then picked it up with gentle hands to see if he could divine how it had come into being—now of all times.

It was nothing out of the ordinary, plain decorated with its plain dress of blue and a stitch or two to patch up where the stuffing was beginning to leak. It was surreal, and it wasn't until Jade realized that he had in his anger instead flooded the—original doll with fonons that that must have leaked out and…formed this new doll?

Experimentation was in his blood, dissection—he'd done it. Chemistry—covered until he knew more than their last professor. This was a new challenge to be conquered, and if he wasn't somehow maimed in way that did not allow him to think, he'd do it.

He exited the room brimming with questions and hypothesis wondering just what new field he had begun to pioneer. Ignoring the fact that perhaps he was forgetting something important. Quelling the urge to tell others of what he had found. Not even thinking of the face that had led him to such a discovery. After all, it was his idea. Nothing more or less than a spontaneous urge to do something, as he'd say.

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Years later, in an afterthought, gazing at a young red headed boy spouting out words of denial and disbelief -_an inverted mirror showing all he hid-_, he wished he had perhaps taken the hand of the boy who had tried so hard to befriend him -_looks of love instead of hate-_. There wouldn't have been so much trouble -_a child dieing before his eyes while calling for his parents-_. He'd be a famed scientist or doctor -_not "The Necromancer" known for death and not much else-_. Maybe then everything would have gone so wrong -_blood, inerasable blood on his hands-_. Maybe, just maybe -_with all the regrets and woes-_, he would still be in that snowy winterland -_not an empty mansion-_ that had given him so much. 

Of course, that was only an afterthought. Something without substance that occurred only after it was _too late_ for anyone to actually do something.

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A/N-I went into a slump for awhile—being swamped with homework tends to do that, and finally finished this which took me a few weeks to get back too. I see Jade as a bitter child, kinda having a temper though he rarely shows it (really masking and controlling it coming with age), and I reckon he's probably in his early teens or something. Saphir I see as a happy-go-lucky character who went so bad after having his childhood friend/hero abuse him so much. 

The last paragraph was just random with the inserts, but I liked how they fit because its like his mind is filling in the spaces of his internal monologue with things he'd never admit to himself. And, yes, the whole red-head in denial part is just after the end of Akzeriuth when they see that little boy die without them able to do anything.

The whole experiment thing was interesting to write because I was wondering about what would happen if one managed to mix the sentience of third fonons and fourth fonons—my little obsession with Celsius kind made me think of a third and a half fonon, though Ice is not an official fonon. I know I got the replica/fonon theory wrong somewhat, I just thought it made it easier to think about that way.

Please review and tell me what you think! It's the best way for me to get better!


	3. Spider

Thanks to all who reviewed last chappie: Black Acid Dragon, Kal Ancalas, and Seraphim Starlight!

_Summary:_ One estranged son of a Duke couldn't weasel out of his web either, no matter the amount of empty threats and wild antics."My name, Master, for the final time is--Asch!", and it was in his best interest he didn't know--just yet.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Tales of the Abyss, nor do I recieve any kind of profit from this piece's publication.

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_"He may be mad, but there's method in his madness. There nearly always is method in madness. It's what drives men mad, being methodical."_

**-G. K. Chesterton**

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**Spider**

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The plan had gone precisely how he had envisioned it, and he found that he could not be happier when examining the results before him. The boy had been coaxed into leaving the safety of the manor to go through with a promised meeting with his precious "Master" by the docks where he had been easily apprehended by loyal oracle knights directly under his command. Their backgrounds had been of noticeable Malkuthian descent so as to not arouse suspicion of his allegiances, and they had followed his explicit orders to the letter, exposing themselves in an earlier tussle while seemingly patrolling the area with no authorization.

It was easy, as he had heard the investigations committee discuss in their meeting chamber above the Baticul central plaza, to tag them as Malkuthian with their thickly foreign accents and unusual features. The normally even tempered Duke, perhaps because of his own private knowledge of what the Score contained, only stoked the tempers of the troops packed tight in the room with well thought-out words and ordered a full out sweep of the kingdom before confronting the King Peony of Malkuth with their concerns. The words of his unintended accomplice in this deed echoed faintly in his mind:

"_It is not to us the duty of cursing or questioning our fate is given, but only the Score's duty to aid us in these times. We are it's humble followers and what has happened will no doubt lead our country to a greater prosperity, most likely with my son returned to us!"_

A more foolish sentiment he had never heard in all his life. The tyrannical, controlling Score leading to greater prosperity? The prosperity that had yet to come— yet had killed thousands and destroyed so much? The prosperity that had destroyed Hod and any chance for the semblance of a joyful life with his sister at his side? A dangerously foolish sentiment, and one that this world would pay for with its very existence. The Score would cease to be, and it would be to him the glorious "duty" would be assigned.

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"I've stood for long enough _Master_," the boy snarled edging closer into the room through the door he had opened, " if you aren't going to train me, may I at least see if any one else more focused on the _present_ will spar?" It seemed he had hit a nerve by daydreaming in the presence of his student. Any motion that indicated or in anyway related to the past tended to spark his temper more often, now that the reality of his losses to his replica had sunken in and festered. 

Van inwardly smirked and outwardly released a sigh. If this loathing for the past was a sign that the present state of existence was unwanted by his pupil, then convincing him to his side would go on unhindered by the boy's usually fickle and large ego.

"Well, _Luke_", he would bring the hate to a boil if only to help his plans, " only upon reflecting on the _past _can one learn from one's mistakes." The boy bristled at the extended barb and crossed the arms agitatedly as Van released a bright smile at his student's humbling.

It was times like these he loved his appointment to the rank of Commandant. No one could outright question his authority with such a large backing of military support and political weight, especially when his own great strength and skills were brought into the equation.

One estranged son of a Duke couldn't weasel out of his web either, no matter the amount of empty threats and wild antics. Luke needed him as much as Van needed him to further his plans; it was in his best interest the boy didn't know how indispensable he was—just yet.

"Asch…" the boy muttered quietly, trying to restrain himself from doing something that would give him reason to be punished. It was to no use as Van had already heard, though it wasn't something he was going let ruin his good mood. Rather, he'd use it to help his mood.

He swung around his desk, stopping only to pick up the sword he had propped up against it, and made his way across the room to his student who had been steadily turning a darker shade of red every second he had to wait. Sighting that, Van shortened his strides while seemingly buckling the scabbard that usually took all but a second to attach to his belt. Van so enjoyed using little actions to tug on a person's patience. Nearing the boy he quickly finished off his minute task and stopped a short distance before the boy.

"_Luke_", he taunted, preparing to jolt a sense of purpose into his pupil's malformed anger, "even your _replica_ grasps the concept of patience and focus. Must the _copy_ outperform it's _original_?" If possible, the boy grew a few inches taller and his face darkened with an almost indecipherable mass of emotions—a mass that Van relished to see hate mixed in with. However, his smile faded slightly as his charge fell too silent and he noticed faintly that the glare he had failed to notice earlier was partially directed at him. Perhaps he had gone a bit too far.

"My name, _Master_, for the final time is—_Asch_!" the boy shouted, "I am in _no way_ possible _inferior_ to that—" he paused, presumably thinking of a proper description to dub his mirror image, "—that DRECK you call _my_ replica! _I_ am not the boy who is the "_Sacred Flame_" of Kimlasca-Landvaldear!" Yes, he'd gone too far this time. He should have expected something like this to happen. "— _I_ am not _LUKE FON FABRE_! _I_ am what remains of him, and all that is are his _ashes_!" The boy stepped forward with every point he made until he had met the older man in the center of the room. He was in front of the Commandant and had to look up due to their large difference in height.

He would become a formidable opponent soon; Van thought absently, as he put a hand on the boy's shoulder and tried to emit a calming aura to defuse his volatile anger. If left unchecked, it would no doubt lead to something exploding with the fifth fonons he emitted subconsciously when angry. They had yet to go over controlling it in their lessons, though it seemed to be the fonon the boy was most compatible with while casting his fonic artes. Ironic that the one who donned the title of "ash" controlled the physical manifestation of his former title. "Sacred Flame" indeed.

"Of course you are _Asch_," he murmured consolingly, taking satisfaction as the boy was brought out of his haze and flinched as he realized what he had just done, "and any other man would be proud to have you as his pupil. I just ask that when you are feeling agitated; you do not take it out in such a juvenile manner. When you become a God-General it will be that much harder to keep your rank, control your subordinates, or even stay _alive_—" The boy allowed himself a sharp intake of breath as he realized the underlying threat involved, and shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, though the fiery glint in his eye was in no way dampened.

"I hope we have an understanding?" Van offered amusedly, watching his pupil nod jerkily, and take a few steps back as his surroundings dropped a few degrees in temperature.

Van often wondered if his fonic affinity was to that of Undine with its mastery of ice and water. It would have certainly brought a large amount of irony into the whole situation if that was the case.

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Van walked past his student slowly, taking in the hesitant footsteps that followed with slight amusement, and turned the sharp corner into a circular chamber littered with the occasional weapon, book, or training dummy. He'd have to warn his subordinates against leaving their trinkets behind, and he knew the perfect way how. 

"L—Asch! See that you knock back every book to the furthest wall." He ordered, indicating the wall facing them with a wave of his hand. "And try limiting your moves to fonic artes that are wind based ." The boy scowled at the order and the situation soon presented by it.

The third fonon had always been his worst. Unlike the fifth fonon, which easily responded to his emotions and thought pattern, it seemed that Sylph was determined to disobey any action he took and sabotage any attack he made.

Van watched as Asch struggled to maintain his focus and calm himself down so that he held a clear mind; the exact attitude one needed to have to successfully focus and channel the third fonon. He also watched as his student _did not_ reach that state of mind, and forcefully start his incantation.

" _Drifting winds of change and malice, strike down my foes, come forth, and encompass those who dare stand against my might—__**Winding Gale!**__"_

When he had seen his pupil flinch the minute wind had gathered around his form, he really couldn't have expected anything different.

The tendrils of wind bound to Asch gathered and spun about him until it seemed he was in the center of a hurricane, equipped with the unsteadying force that so accompanied its presence. Asch stumbled backwards a few steps, trying to balance himself in the center of the eye that was all but calm, but when he tried to retry the incantation, he only got a mouthful of the mid-back lengthed hair he was so determined to keep despite the strict dress-code. Van had decided to humor the boy in an attempt to sway him to his favor, but seeing what was happening now definitely made up for the small sacrifice he'd made.

The boy danced around and tried to outrun the spire of wind, sending glares back at him when he could afford pause, and then returned to his losing attempt to outrun the creation of Sylph. It was truly funny; though the fit the boy would undoubtedly throw afterward would be a pain to deal with.

Luckily, he knew how to weave his way around the boy with his actions and slight nudges into certain directions. It was only Asch who didn't know of the game being played, and that made it all the sweeter.

* * *

A/N- I don't know why, but the fact that Van toyed with Luke, as I presume he toyed with Asch in his younger days, just rubs me the wrong way. I'm all for a game having an evil character that strings everyone in the game along, but the way it got really personal and so obvious later on when I'm yelling at ShutUp/Pre-Akzeriuth!Luke while progressing through the storyline made me want to kick his butt especially hard during the (what seems like) 3rd final battle. 

I'm proud to say I made it my first time through without having to use up _all_ my usual 16 life bottles!

This, I guess, was timed a few years after the kidnapping, but not so close to the beginning of the game to where Asch actually suspects treachery. It's more that he's eternally pissed off at his teacher for kidnapping him (or just knowing of the existence of his replica), but not knowing what part he's going to play in it.

The quote I found while searching for something pertaining to power, and I felt it fit Van a lot becuase he isn't the usual wack-job that is continuously cackling in evil laughter after coming up with a particularly ingenious plot. I hope he came out that way in this.

One more thing: What the is the room in Baticul where a meeting is being always held actually used for? The whole game it was filled with a bunch of guys who just told me to shut up. They didn't seem to further the plot at all unless I missed something big…though I definitely wouldn't put that past myself...


	4. Thought

Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of the Abyss...You know I wish I did...

Summary: When Luke was "born", he wasn't entirely himself. Bits of thoughts he never had littered his mind; when he spoke, however, the transformation was complete. Innocence to unexplained bitterness. It can all be traced to this.

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**Chaotic Blades:** You're welcome. I couldn't write Van without making him into the psycho he is!

**Kal Ancalas:** Thanks! Zoloft?...[Google, I love thee Yep. He is the "Ashes of the flame" or whatever he calls himself...

And to all who've seen these and have been waiting for the next installment, I'm sorry! This is really the first time anything I've done has gotten chaptered...:shiver:

* * *

Thought

* * *

First he'd thought. 

It was the peak of the summer, the semi-sweltering heat bringing the guards out of their armor, and into leathers and cotton. The maids tittered around nervously, ducking into rooms and out, knowing naught what to do with the excess of energy that burst through their veins and pled with them to escape the manor, into the vibrant world outside the drapes and tapestries. The gardens and yards of greenery glistened with water, Pierre not letting up his attack on the summer sun, which drove the rain away for long spans of time. The air carried with it the scent of excitement, and tourists from all over buzzed into the towering capital of light, to stand in awe of thousands of years of history. It was an eventful summer afternoon, but he had just woken up.

He stumbled around his room, over loose articles of clothing that had fallen to the ground in an awkward search for clothes to wear. They were of all sizes and color; apparently he'd been a very picky person when it came to fashion and clothing. Now he couldn't care less as long as he wasn't dressed by the maids and servants.**_ He was not a child; he had learned the artes of politics, and learned the ways of war. He'd be damned if he was treated like one now!_**

He knew the commands with which he used to direct his body; it was just the hand eye coordination that had escaped his understanding. **_Swordsmanship, he had taken it up to work on his balance and poise._** . He took his hand and mentally counted off what he was supposed to be wearing. White,**_ was the long shirt he wore with a golden trim_**. Black,**_ was the pair of loose shorts that he wore underneath_**. Red,**_ the hair that interfered with his eye sight, but was still too short to bind with a simple string_**. Luke nodded in mute satisfaction, but lost his balance in the process, and fell without a sound; a pile of sleepwear had broken his fall.

His breathing was even, and he sat up and was still. His arms hung limply at his sides, and his legs were not much better, but he was confused. With a wide eyed stare Luke looked around the decorated walls of his room, trying to think about what the proper response to the situation was. **_A childhad once fallen in the park he'd been to, water had come out of its eyes._** Was he supposed to do that? **_'Don't cry honey!' a woman and rushed forward and said._** Cry—crying?

He fell back onto his back and stared at the white ceiling, willing the same thing to happen. But how was he to begin? **_The pain, the cold, it hurt so, so much._** The numbness he had felt evaporated, and when he closed his eyes, tears slipped from underneath and fell onto the ground. He opened his green eyes and watched as a blue nightshirt absorbed the liquid and was instantly turned into a darker shade of blue. That was it? Crying, he mouthed, unable to speak aloud as of yet.

With uneven jerks and after several failed attempts, Luke finally stood. He stomped his feet, amused by the feeling of carpet wedgingitself between his toes. **_The concrete was a biting cold, and the side he was resting on was soon numb and unfeeling._** He shivered, and put his arms around himself when the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. A gentle wind blew into and mixed with the stagnant air that had settled itself neatly in his room. **_The blood, the putrid stink. It smelled so bad, it was making him gag and—_**

"Luke, are you alright?" A voice floated in from the now opened window and a head of yellow peeked in with a cocky grin. His throat had closed for a few seconds before he had been addressed, and his body trying to compensate by making him take heavier and deeper breaths.**_ The hand over his mouth--He couldn't breathe! Where were they taking him?_** In response to Guy's concern, he shook his head lightly up and down, the annoying red strands making him blink rapidly before actually reaching up to sweep them aside. "Sleeping in again then? Van won't be pleased."

Van? The man with the hair on his chin—**_beard_** who had brought him to this place, **_home_**?**_ The bastard! He had looked up to him, trusted him with his life, and now this—_** A frown had spread over his face, and with tentative hands he touched it amazed. "Luke?" Guy peered at him with ill-concealed wonder, and then jumped from his perch on the wide windowsill to enter the room.

"Are you okay?" He enunciated louder and slower, as if thinking he hadn't understood the earlier query.**_ He wouldn't stand for this! He knew more than the green haired urchin could ever know._** He nodded quickly with great fervor, equally surprised that his face had actually shown something other than its usual lack of extreme expression. Luke did not understand what the point to emotion was yet, that very fact perplexing the white men in Sheridan who had claimed that the amnesia shouldn't have been so complete and thorough.

The larger man with red hair, **_father_**, had shouted and demanded to know what could have caused it. One man in white,**_ doctor_**, had shied away and began a whispered conversation with one man who remained in background of the machines and large instruments.**_ Keep it away: I don't want to! What are you doing? I don't want—_**. He soon returned and softly amended his previous statement and had said that in rare cases, it was known to happen. The answer had slightly mollified father, and Luke had returned to softer voices and pitying glances in the large manor in which he was imprisoned. **_Space, I need space. The bars, what am I, a criminal? Let me out, it's too small!_**

It was all a bit above him, he realized, as Guy's face relaxed when the blank expression he had taken to usually wearing slipped back on. Unnoticed by his keeper, his hand had clenched, but he bit down on the need to **_scream_**. It was a delicate machine, living. He had all the buttons, but didn't have clue as to which one ones to press yet.**_So very easy to die, isn't it? But also possible to lose one's life without body dying at all._**

"Lets go for a walk, eh Luke?" His friend extended an arm towards him, smiling brightly and looking at him intently with his eyes of blue. Luke stared at them, wondering where he'd seen some almost the same color before.**_ In a picture, a girlstood with a staff at attention, but soondisappeared with a slam as Van flipped it down and glared at him._** He accepted the hand and when it moved to his forearm he wasn't alarmed. Whenever he left his room, there was considerable concern that he'd accidentally harm himself, so father had ordered anyone in the household on hand to escort him so he didn't fall.**_ He didn't truly care. All he wanted was an heir to preen and parade about. So what of he had stayed with him when he was sick that one time with—._**

They stepped out of the room, and took the stairs one at a time with Pierre in the far ahead, waving with a hand not carrying his numerous sharp instruments. For a second, a brief spark of worry flashed in Guy's eyes, and with an encouraging nod from Luke, who was slowly comingto understand familial relationships; he leapt off the rest of the stairs and rushed to help the gardener before he was impaled by his own tools. **_A sword so sharp it could slice anything. That was what he held in his hands. Power._**

Luke dropped onto the step he was on, halfway up the stairs to his room. Looked up at the sun, and quietly enjoyed the breeze that toyed with his loose clothing and hair. He always like going outside, it was refreshing compared to constancy of the manor's insides. Though he had been in there for only a few months, he had grown used to the scenery, and only the courtyard had given him something new and fresh to think about everyday. It was somewhat of a driving force that pushed his passive mind to search for new sights and new knowledge; to commit all that he could to his memory.

With a jolt, he was struck with a sense of oddness. The blue that was up above him…**_sky_**. He was sure he had known what it had been called before. Luke quickly looked for something else, and he spotted the brown wrinkles on the cover of the………**_tree_**. He stiffened as the sense of utter wrongness spread to everything he was feeling and thinking. He knew, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Something was off.**_ What the hell is going on?_**

Stars burst into his vision, and he stood shaking and tumbled down the remaining steps. Everything began to spin until only one foreign entity voiced its thoughts in his aching head.

**…CHILD—REN… I AM…S–ORRY. YOU…H–AVE SUFF—ERED...**

**_Pain, it hurt!—_**What was this, it was too much it!—**_Stop it!—_**Stop the hurting!—**_Ma_**ke **_it_** **_stop_**!

"Luke!" He felt arms encircle him and lift him up in the nothingness. He was floating, he was sure like, **_like that one time he and Natalia snuck out to the coast and—_**the doctors had tried and experiment to see if he had retained muscle memories which were believed to be connected to actions like swimming—**_he had nearly drowned._** He had failed and they were forced to declare him a lost case—**_Van leered at him, dragging the tip of his sword along his neck and then he snapped around and left with only a mocking sigh._** Everything felt so slow**_…Why wasn't today a training day?_**

His eyes snapped open and with terrified shriek, he clung to the person who sat on the side of his bed. Guy was taken aback by the sudden need for comfort, but he wrapped his gloved hands around the shaking boy's shoulder and rocked him back in forth. Luke trembled for a few moments before loosening his grip, and he pushed away with a shaky sigh.

"Luke. You're okay." He said, trying to calm him down. Blue eyes appraised him, and with a wince, the blond began again. "I'm sorry I left you like that!" he said quickly, "I should have known that—" Luke cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"It's my fault," His voice cracked from lack of use, "I thought I was lost." But the message was still delivered. His companion stared uncomprehendingly for a few moments, shocked into silence by the younger boy's first words.

"You talked." Guy said simply, a shadow falling over his features. Luke nodded, unsure as to what Guy's reaction was supposed to mean. A wry smile crossed his friend's face, and with a voice filled less with understanding and with more of a servile tone than Luke believed he'd ever become accustomed to, he spoke. "Welcome back Master." With seemingly nothing else to say, Guy got up and closed the window before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

It was the first time he'd ever been treated like this, by Guy of all people, so Luke wilted and dropped onto the bed like a doll before flipping on his side and sighing. **_Ignore him? He'd show them he was someone to pay attention to—_**It made him slightly angry when he thought about it.

"Why is everything so complicated?"**_ The world was against him, so he'd be rotten to it when he could spare the time._**

And then he spoke.

* * *

A/N-Made this for a contest over at devArt, but half way through I realized it could be considered part of this series...I felt guilty for not creating something about Luke personally since I made one for Natalia, Guy, Jade, and Luke, so I suppose this will do. 

The italic and bold is supposed to be Asches thoughts or memories popping up whenever Luke encounters something similar or familiar to the corner of his mind that is Asch's [the guest room. The problem is that Luke doesn't realize that those aren't his lines of thought, so they subconsciously affect his behavior and actions. The plain bold that suddenly appeared was supposed to be Lorelei, turning this telepathic semi-conversation into a party line, and thus overloading dear Luke's mind and pushing him closer into obnoxious stuck-up longhair!Luke. The last part was supposed to illustrate that.

I suppose I just came up with this idea because I don't see how two people (or three beings if you look at it) so intricately connected couldn't have had a connection that somehow transcended the fonslot sealing that stopped communication between them until Choral Castle. I also thought that Lorelei might have utilized his awesome communication skills to act as the link himself in order to prepare Luke with basic skills and knowledge for what was going to happen. I mean, from what I understand, in most cases Replica's are blank slates, so wouldn't he have to learn how to a lot of things we take for granted? Luke would have a lot to learn in just seven years if he was going to imitate a teenager.

I know there are quite a few Luke-is-replica-recently-rescued-and-learning-special-lessons-that-seem-ironic-if-you-know-what-happens-later fics. I like those a lot, but I hope mine has a different twist to it.

Read and Review!...Please?...


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